


Wager

by AnnDerry



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Betting, Consensual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gaining trust for each other, Gangster Romance, Gypsy Horses, Gypsy Queen, Heroine falling in love, Heroine is a leader, Heroine is an adult, Inspired By Peaky Blinders, Kissing at Midnight, Midsummer, One night with Tommy Shelby, Summer, Taking what is owed, Talking by a campfire, Tommy being nice, Tommy falling in love, Tommy meeting his match, Tommy showing restraint, arguing and making up, countryside, families at war, finding common ground, midnight swimming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnDerry/pseuds/AnnDerry
Summary: If it’s heads, Abby here take all of this, with my blessing...and if it’s tails... I’ll fuck your daughter, Mister Gold.Inspired by the confrontation between Tommy Shelby and Aberama Gold over the ownership of Charlie's Yard. In this story, the wager was struck, the coin was spun and Tommy won his prize but it was not until the summer before he decided to claim what was now owed to him.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby & Esmarelda Gold
Comments: 11
Kudos: 49





	1. Summer Solstice

Tonight would be a celebration. All week the gypsy camp had been preparing for a feast. The men had hunted the fattest rabbits and roebucks which would be prepared for roasting later. Vegetables, herbs and flowers had been acquired by various means and drink would be flowing. The longest day of the year dawned hot and full of promise. I loved our summer site, deep in the Lickey Hills away from the smoke, dirt, and smog of the cities that I loathed. 

The freedom of gypsy life brought me great contentment but being the eldest daughter of Aberama Gold had its responsibilities and challenges. None more so than what was about to unfold on this most sacred of summer days. 

By late afternoon, I had completed all my own chores and directed the elder girls to help organise games for the children to keep them occupied during the evening. I wore my finest frock and had washed and attended to my hair which hung low down my back in dark glossy russet curls. 

I took a few moments of peace to wander down to the stream to check the horses. Sounds of merriment started to drift across the field from the camp as I stood and watched the foals scampering around their mothers. Since my own mother died, I knew that I would one day take her place as Queen and I already was looked up to by members of our kin. It was a responsibility that I welcomed. Royalty was in my blood and although other gypsy clans called us savages, I still respected the traditions and expectations of our kind. 

I loved but could also be infuriated with my father. He sometimes made rash decisions that had consequences for all of us. He also gave less credence to our traditions, preferring to pick and choose how he conducted himself. This meant that sometimes our clan was both feared and disrespected by other gypsy clans. 

I’d not been alone for more than ten minutes when a few of the tiny children came running across the field shouting excitedly for me. 

‘There’s the most pretty wagon arrived,’ cried the eldest, a cousin of about seven. ‘It’s green and gold. Looks fancy and it’s being pulled by the most beautiful mare. She’s almost pure white. If she had wings, she’d be Pegasus!’. 

I laughed at the little girl’s excitement. ‘Pegasus indeed,’ I said but I was I intrigued. We expected no guests so I wonder who on earth had decided to join us. The children tugged at my dress and I followed them back to the campsite. 

Sure enough, the wagon was there along with the horse and very fine they were too. My father was talking to the driver. From the way they were both throwing their hands about agitatedly, I could tell that this was not a welcome addition to our party. I recognised him, a gypsy man called Jonny Doggs who sometimes did business with my father. As they talked, I circled the caravan admiringly and petted the horse. I’d never seen such a luxurious wagon and it was brand spanking new. 

I left my father to deal with the visitor and went to check on the cooking fires then got caught up in settling an argument between two newlyweds. Such was my position within the camp, I had many roles and I was often sought out to offer advice and guidance as my mother had done before me. My two younger sisters also had their fair share of responsibility but none like mine. 

The sound of car engines approaching had everyone making their way to the camp entrance. Our sentry guards raised their shotguns and others positioned themselves out of plain sight with further weapons. Why couldn’t we just have one time where we could have a peaceful night? I knew that whatever was happening would not be good. My father looked pale and angry.

I quickly ushered all the children away and urged their mothers to either run to the stream or shut themselves in their wagons. From a hidden vantage point, I could see a huge sliver Bentley approaching. Behind it were two black cars full of men. 

The Bentley rolled to a stop and my father walked forward as the driver door opened. Out of it stepped a man who I knew could only be Tommy Shelby. I’d not seen him first hand before but from the description my brother Bonnie had given me, this was him alright. I was struck by how immaculately turned out he was. The men in our camp looked dirty and unkempt compared to him and I felt a hot flush of shame on their behalf. His light tweed suit was tailored perfectly for his frame and I could see the flash of silver in his peaked cap. The symbol of the Peaky Blinders glistening as it reflected the early evening sunshine. I shivered despite the heat of the day as a sense of foreboding shot through me. 

More men stepped out of the black cars, all kitted out in the same kind of uniform, all unsmiling. Tommy lit a cigarette and he and my father talked quietly. My brother, Bonnie joined them and then quickly hurried away. I was soon to find out that he had been sent to look for me. 

‘Esmarelda!’ said Bonnie. ‘Tommy Shelby has come for you. Make haste before someone gets killed.’ 

‘He’s what?’ I cried. ‘What would Tommy Shelby want from me?’ I knew that my father did business with him. He promoted my brother in his boxing career but I also knew that other tasks were undertaken. Jobs that would not be palatable to most ordinary folk but we Golds were far from ordinary. 

‘There’s no time to explain,’ said Bonnie. He looked just as pale as my father did. ‘You must come now.’ 

I refused to run as Bonnie encouraged. Instead, I walked calmly with my head held high to join my father and the most feared gypsy gangster in the land. 

Up close I was jolted by how handsome he was but any admiration soon dissipated when he spoke. 

‘What I heard was correct, Mister Gold,’ he said as his blue eyes appraised me. ‘She is pretty.’

He slowly circled me and I stood very still wondering what the hell was going on. His eyes which seemed to be stripping me bare, flicked to mine and I held his stare defiantly. His lips, which were full and pouty, curved upwards in amusement. ‘A strong gypsy girl and beautiful too.’ 

I was outraged at his words. ‘I’m not a fucking horse to be assessed for its confirmation.’ 

‘Esmarelda,’ said my father, warning me to be quiet. 

‘It’s alright, Mister Gold,’ said Tommy. He stood right next to me, so close I could smell the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with tobacco and gunpowder. He smelt of power and confidence. His hand swept my long hair aside exposing the skin of my neck. He spoke low but loud enough for me and my father to hear. ‘I’ll fuck that spirit right out of her.’ 

In shock I swung round and slapped him. He took the assault with composure, as if he knew that he deserved it but instantly the atmosphere heated. Guns on both sides were raised. Tommy himself had drawn a handgun out of his holster and was pointing it at my father who in turn also had a gun raised at Tommy. 

‘You’re not having my daughter, Mister Shelby,’ said my father.

‘We had a wager in front of witnesses,’ replied Tommy. ‘You lost and I told you that I would insist on the outcome being fulfilled.’ 

‘Why now?’ my father asked. ‘That was six months ago and my men have served you well since then. Bonnie has won every fight you put him in. There is no need for this.’ 

Tommy was unmoved. ‘Spinning a coin is sacred. You should have realised that before you embarrassed my uncle by trying to force him into selling his yard to you. Jonny here, warned me that you were reckless heathens with no honour. Now you pay the price.’

‘Tommy Shelby OBE,’ replied my father. ‘As they say, over my dead body will you have my daughter.’ 

Tommy’s lips pursed as if in thought. ‘Then so be it Mister Gold.’ 

I listened in shock at the two leaders as they postured to gain the upper hand. The amount of guns trained on each other’s men could at any moment turn this verbal battle into a war zone and I was not going to let that happen. The blood of my kin would not be spilled on my account.

‘Mister Shelby, you are wrong,’ I said. ‘We do indeed uphold the same values as you and your family and I will prove it. 

This was not strictly true. I aspired to the traditional gypsy traditions more than my father did but now was a good time to demonstrate how I wanted my family to behave. I would confront my father another time for the sin of the bet he’d struck if I could prevent him from being killed in front of me by Tommy Shelby. 

‘Daughter, be quiet,’ ordered my father. The click of two guns being cocked broke the silence.

I took a deep breath and stepped in between them. ‘No. I will not be the cause of a war,’ I said as firmly as I could. ‘Mister Shelby, what are your terms?’ 

I registered a hint of surprise on Tommy’s face which gratified me. His expression since arriving had not given much away. A trait that I imagined he valued. He being used to negotiating life or death situations must mean that he needed to be in control at all times. But I had a gift of reading people and animals which had been passed down through the generations. It came in useful now, more than ever. 

‘My terms are simple. You will come with me now and I will return you safely back here tomorrow,' he said. How straightforward it sounded until he added a postscript loaded with intent. 'The details we can negotiate... privately.’ 

I paused to let him see that I fully considered the gravity of what he was proposing. At least he held his coarse language in check now he was talking to me. He became almost respectful. ‘I understand,’ I said. ‘And I accept.’ 

As delicately as I could, I spat on my open hand as was the custom and bid that he did the same to seal the deal. I dared him to underestimate me and at length, he assented. Our palms connected and a shot of heat seemed to tingle through from his skin to mine. 

‘I forbid this, Esmeralda,’ cried my father. 

‘Father, the honour of our family is at stake, along with the lives of all of us. Look at him. Look at his army. I must do this. Lower your weapon.' I shook my head. 'Mister Shelby, stand your men down too...please.’ 

With the smallest indication, no more then the raising of his chin, his men obeyed instantly. Ours too, along with my father also lowered their weapons. I breathed a sigh of relief for the women and children hidden away in the fields and caravans. Stupid men and their egos, they did not realise the loss and suffering caused by their hands. A feeling that I knew and understood only too well. 

There was no more bargaining to be done. I was curious as to where Tommy was going to take me. I wondered if it would be a hotel or his grand house in the country but he escorted me to the green and gold caravan. 

‘Up you get,’ he told me. 

‘This is yours?’ I asked. ‘Not your man's?’ 

He nodded. ‘Jonny?. I don’t pay him enough to own a wagon and horse as good. It’s custom made. Cost two thousand pounds before the furnishings were kitted out. Do you approve?’ 

I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeming impressed. ‘It will do,’ I said. 

He smiled at my comment and offered his hand to assist me in climbing up into the front seat which I purposely did not take. 

‘Fair enough,’ he said as he registered the snub. ‘It’s going to be a long fucking night at this rate.’

‘You’ll find it’s the shortest night of the year, Mister Shelby or are you too much of a city dweller these days to notice the changing seasons?’ I could not help snapping at him even though I knew it was dangerous to do so. Just because I had made a deal with him didn’t mean that I had to like it.

‘Summer solstice eh? I remember my mother saying that anything could happen on such a special night.’ 

I did not respond but instead flicked my hair and ignored him. 

The mare had stood patiently through all of the commotions and he turned away from me to her. I noticed that before we set off he checked her tack was correctly fitted. He fussed over her with a gentle voice and a mint from his own pocket.

His men were back in their cars. Two vehicles in front of us and the Bentley behind, lining the road in convoy. Tommy sprang lightly up to sit next to me and took hold of the reins. His leg brushed mine and his nearness caused my breathing to hitch slightly. I shifted left to put more space between us and half turned my back to him as we trundled slowly out of the campsite. I spied my father standing with Bonnie watching us depart, a desolate figure but at least he was still alive.


	2. Queen

We trundled slowly through the countryside. It was the perfect summer evening and I would have enjoyed the journey if circumstances were different. Hedgerows, full, green and lush bordered our track and scented wildflowers were in abundance. Tiny birds and rabbits flitted and scampered at our approach. I wished that the cars were not with us. Dirty, metal monsters that ripped up the turf with their tyres and killed the plants with their fumes. 

Tommy and I had not spoken for a full half-hour since our departure from camp. I kept my shoulders hunched away from him, but it was he who broke the ice. 

‘Cigarette?’ he offered. I glanced at him and shook my head. He let out a small sigh and lit his own. ‘Are you going to have this attitude all night?’

I didn’t answer his question but hit him with my own instead. ‘Why are your men still here?’ I asked. 

‘Because I don’t trust your father or anyone else for that matter,’ he replied.

‘The fearless, Tommy Shelby,’ I mocked. ‘Doesn’t travel anywhere without his army.’

I stole a look at him to check how he was taking my barbs. His lips curved upward while holding the white cigarette between them. It looked like I had gotten away with that comment. 

‘I have many enemies, Esmerelda and many people who rely on me to provide for them so sometimes extra precautions are necessary. Especially, when dealing with the Golds.’ 

I shot him a filthy look and lightly sprang down from the moving wagon. As my feet hit the track, I heard the sound of a gun being cocked. I swung round to see Tommy Shelby pointing it right at me. He pulled the pony to a stop with the reins in his left hand. 

‘Sweetheart, I’ll remind you that the honour of your family is in your hands. How far do you think you are going to get, eh? I could send my men back to camp within ten minutes and raze it to the ground.’ 

‘I’m not running away, Tommy Shelby. I’d just rather walk alongside your horse than sit next to you.’

I flicked my long hair over my shoulder and turned my back on the gangster and his gun. In those few steps away from him I half expected a bang but instead, I heard him chuckle and click the mare on with his tongue. 

The mare really was a beauty. A fine example of a Blagdon Cob. I murmured endearments to her and rested my hand on the crest of her neck as we walked along. Her long mane was plaited in a French pleat and her kind eyes were dark and lustrous. 

‘What’s her name?’ I called.

‘So, you are talking to me now then,’ he responded. ‘Her name is Sirena.’

‘Greek for Enchanter,’ I said. ‘Said to seduce and lure men to their doom.’

‘I’m impressed. Yes, you read then?’ 

‘Don’t sound so surprised, Mister Shelby. You may have won me as a prize due to an old tradition but I’m also a modern Gypsy woman and anyway, the mare has an honest eye. She won’t cause you any trouble.’

‘Unlike you, Esmarelda?’ 

I patted the mare a final time and rejoined him on the wagon. I’d made my point and if I was to spend the next few hours with him, I had to engage.’ Just because I am fated to submit to you tonight doesn’t mean I have to respect you.’

‘Maybe I’ll make you respect me,’ he said, his gaze becoming serious.

Up close, his face was a contrast of perfection and imperfection. Flawless bone structure studded with small scars on his cheek and chin which just added to his aura and those steel-blue eyes expressed that I’d finally hit a nerve, but I was enjoying goading him. 

‘I suppose you are used to women falling over themselves to find their way into your bed.’

He nodded and said matter of factly. ‘I can get a fuck whenever I want, love.’ 

‘Then why all this?’ I said gesturing to the horse, wagon, and surroundings. 

He considered my question. ‘Would you have preferred my men to have collected you, and brought you by force to my gambling den? I could have fucked you face down over my desk and sent you back when I was done.’ 

That quietened my tongue. ‘No,’ I said, looking at my hands. He talked like a gangster but the fact that he had done the opposite showed me he had compassion. A moral compass of his own making. Still, I was affected by his harsh words. He knew I felt his chastisement, so his next comment was kinder as was the look he bestowed on me. 

‘Perhaps, I needed to get out of the city for a night with a pretty girl, eh. I work hard enough.’

‘That’s a more charitable explanation, Mister Shelby,’ I said. 

‘Will you call me Tommy at least?’ he asked.

‘If you wish, Tommy,’ I answered. 

He seemed satisfied with that and clicked the mare on from an amble to a purposeful walk. 

‘How far are we going?’ 

He pointed to the right. ‘Just beyond the quarry. I know of a place where I can ensure our safety.’

‘This track leads us to Lickey farm. We’ve been turned away from there many times. They won’t even sell us milk and eggs. The farmer’s a tyrant and has vicious dogs. He set them on the children. They were lucky they weren’t badly bitten.’

‘I think we will be fine,’ said Tommy. 

The men driving in front of us stopped the cars and one of them opened a five-barred gate that swung outwards into a large paddock but only the caravan passed through. As we rolled into the field, Tommy spoke to his men. 

‘Set up a perimeter watch but not too close. You remember the signals if I need you?’

The men nodded and I was glad the cars were no longer to be our companions. We negotiated our way forward towards an ancient weeping willow tree at the foot of the field. Some of its sweeping, green fronds lazily caressed a clear lake that was still as a millpond in the humidity of the evening. The rest of the tree’s branches also touched the grass, creating a natural covered space. 

Tommy coaxed the mare to a standstill and was soon attending to her. ‘Good girl,’ he crooned. ‘That’s a girl. Well done.’ Sirena whickered to her master and nudged his pockets for more mints as he began to unharness her from the wagon. 

‘Can I help?’ I asked. 

‘If you wish, Esmarelda,’ he answered with a wink. ‘Unbuckle her from your side, will you?’ 

Now he was making fun of me by repeating my own words earlier. Still, I’d rather be teased by him than threatened. It was like there were two sides to him fighting each other. The good and the bad. 

I did as he asked and soon the mare was freed from her burden and we were removing her collar. 

‘Hold her for a moment,’ he said. ‘I’ll just get some water to cool her down.’

I watched him climb the back steps of the caravan and reappear with a metal pail that he filled with water from the lake. 

‘There you go, girl,’ he said to the horse as he poured the refreshing water over her shoulders and back where her leather tack had left sweat patches from exertion. 

Sirena proceeded to shake herself dry like a dog, spraying water over the two of us. 

‘Perhaps she thought we needed cooling off too,’ I said laughing. 

Tommy and I quietly went about our task of sponging and grooming the horse until her coat was no longer mackerelled but dry and smooth. The chore was domestic and natural to us gypsies. We both knew what we were doing without giving each other instructions. As we worked together on this menial task, I was struck by the comfort of undertaking the care of the animal together. It was a feeling that I had missed these past two years. 

When we were done, Sirena ambled off to graze and we hung her tack on the wagon. ‘I’ll make a fire, you get a kettle out of the caravan,’ he told me. ‘I’ve no idea where it is. You’ll have to look.’ 

‘Are you going to get some wood from that copse over there?’ I asked. 

‘No, I already have supplies chopped and stored on the roof,’ he answered and climbed up on top to retrieve a bundle. 

‘Do you think of everything?’ I asked. 

He laughed. ‘Usually,’ he said. 

I left him to his fire-making and ascended the steps of the caravan myself. Inside was luxury personified. I marvelled as I examined the contents of the cupboards. The crockery was the finest bone china, cast iron pots and pans hung above my head along with bunches of dried herbs and flowers. Crystal whiskey tumblers sparkled next to a decanter filled with an amber spirit. I glanced at the bed raised up at the back and patted the eiderdown. It was soft and smelt fresh and clean. I found the kettle which still had a label on. The price tag was extortionate, and I tutted. 

‘Not to your liking?’ Tommy’s voice cut through the silence. ‘You are very hard to please, Miss Gold. It all came from Harrods.’ He stood in the doorway, hands on either side of the frame blocking any exit. I wondered if he would take me now on the bed. 

‘Isn’t that a shop in London?’ I said quickly. I knew our coupling was inevitable, but I wanted it to be on my terms. ‘The one the King uses.’ 

‘If it’s good enough for Kings then it’s good enough for Gypsy Kings too.’ 

‘It’s all beautiful,’ I said truthfully. 

He walked slowly towards me. ‘A beautiful wagon for a beautiful Gypsy Queen.’

‘Why me?’ I asked. ‘Why not one of my sisters?’ 

He moved closer still as he spoke and once again, I breathed in the scent of cologne, power, and animal health. I let him caress my cheek with his knuckles and closed my eyes at the contact, reveling in his gentleness. I had missed that too, the affection of a man, the touch of another human on my skin. The juxtaposition of knowing his hands were capable of such violence and were now feathering down my body caused my breathing to hitch. He ran a finger across my bottom lip and whispered to me. 

‘Now why would I bother with princesses, when I can have a Queen, eh?’


	3. War or Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thank you so much for the lovely comments on this story and apologies for the long delay with adding new chapters. I've been concentrating on finishing my other Peaky Blinders fic 'King' but this story has been whirring in my mind in the background. So here is a new chapter. Hope you are all keeping safe and well in these strange times.

My instinct was to place my hands on his chest, ready to push him away but as my touch connected with the fine material of his suit, I felt the solidness of what lay underneath the expensive tailored tweed. He didn’t make another move. Instead, he just gazed at me with a slight arch of his brow, challenging me to make the first move, waiting for me to react.

‘What’s the matter, Esmerelda?’ he said softly. ‘Surprised I’m not taking what is owed to me by force?’

I did not answer. My fingertips rose and fell on his lapels with the steadiness of his breathing. Instead of pushing him off me, I pulled him nearer. Oh, how long it had been to be so close to a man and one so handsome. I found that did not want to protect myself. I tilted my face closer still and brushed my lips on his. The kiss he returned was tentative and gentle. 

The gangster who commanded a criminal empire with fear, violence and intimidation was caressing me with the utmost care as if he feared he might break me at any moment. I had expected him to be brutal and yet here we were embracing in a tender first kiss as if we were sweethearts. He smoothed a hand over my hair, resting his fingertips on the nape of my neck urging us closer. The bed suddenly became more palatable to me, but our embrace was abruptly cut short by the sound of shouting. 

Tommy broke away and sighed. He shook his head at me and pulled his gun from its holster. ‘Is it too much to ask for a few hours peace?’ He strode towards the door and turned back to me as he reached it. ‘Stay in here.’

‘Not flipping likely,’ I answered and followed him down the caravan steps. 

‘Do you ever do as your told?’ 

‘Do you?’ I countered. 

A ghost of a smile appeared on his handsome face. In the distance, I could see his men wrestling a man to the ground. I hoped in my heart that it was not any of my kin, in a foolish attempt to rescue me. Tommy would surely take his vengeance in the most violent way and our kiss would be the last tender moment between us.

Tommy’s eyes were trained on the fray at the top of the field. He cocked his gun and confirmed my fears. ‘If that man belongs to your family, you should prepare yourself.’

‘Then you’ll have to kill me too,’ I told him defiantly. 

‘Don’t be foolish,’ he said with a glance of distain, rolling his eyes dismissively. 

Just let him underestimate me, I told myself as I reached for the small handgun that was fixed in the garter underneath my dress. The click of my gun being readied at his head got his attention. I held my arm out straight as I pointed it at the gangster before me. 

‘No more of my kin’s blood will be spilled on your account, Thomas Shelby.’ 

Tommy regarded me coolly, he was clearly used to guns being pointed at him. ‘Put the fucking gun down, Esmeralda,’ he said wearily. ‘Give it to me.’

‘Not until you put yours down.’ 

‘For fucks sake,’ he said, rubbing a hand over his face. He stared right into my eyes and took a step toward me. ‘I’ll ask you again, give me the gun.’ 

‘No,’ I told him. ‘It’s a shame that it has come to this. I was just starting to feel cordial toward you.’ 

‘Well, that’s progress,’ he said with a brief smile. 

‘I don’t know how you can joke when you are seconds from death.’ 

‘Do you really think you’ll kill me after that sweet kiss?’ He shook his head. ‘I felt your body trembling, yearning for more.’ 

My breathing hitched at his words and I looked away from his penetrating stare. The villain was correct, and we both knew it. My hesitation led to my defeat. Two seconds later he had me pinned against the solid trunk of the willow tree. His grip on my wrist was strong, viciously slamming my left hand on the bark, then squeezing hard until I yelped and dropped my gun on the grass. 

‘Bastard,’ I cried out in pain and aimed a hard kick at him. Lightening fast reflexes enabled him to dodge out of reach and then he pushed the weight of his whole body against mine, holding me still as I struggled in vain to free myself. 

His forehead rested on mine. ‘Is this what you want?’ he said. ‘Fighting me all the time.’

‘No,’ I protested. Tears welled up in my eyes and instantly he released his hold on me. ‘I can’t lose any more of my family, Tommy. I won’t allow it.’

He took a pace backward. ‘This is business, Esmerelda. It’s just the way it is.’ 

‘It doesn’t have to be like this. You have gypsy blood too. Please don’t start a war with my father. Show mercy and I will make sure that we will work with you, not against you. Will you consider it, at least?’

He picked up my gun and pocketed it. ‘Alright. I’ll consider peace, but you need to show me that I can trust you first.’ 

We stepped out into the open. I strained my eyes hard to see if I recognised the man who was now being frogmarched toward us between two beefy Peaky Blinders. 

‘That’s no gypsy,’ I said with relief. ‘It’s the farmer who I told you about. Look, his dogs are following.’ Sure enough, the struggling man was shouting curses and orders at his dogs who were snapping and barking at his captors’ heels. 

‘Call your bloomin’ dogs off or I’ll shoot ‘em,’ snarled one of Tommy’s men. 

‘Bloody gypsies on my land,’ shouted the farmer. ‘Who the hell do you think you are roughing me up like this and trespassing on my farm?’

Our peaceful campsite was now in uproar until Tommy took control by letting off a round of gunfire into the air with a bang. The dogs yelped and cowered. The farmer, bristling with rage quietened down somewhat. 

‘We’re just passing through, that’s all,’ said Tommy. ‘No need to get hostile.’

‘You’ve no right to camp here. Thieves and scoundrels the lot of you. One command from me and these dogs will rip your gypsy throat out.’

‘Is that right?’ said Tommy. ‘One, you’re in no position to threaten anyone. Two, I dare you to set those dogs on me because we gypsies can charm dogs and those we can’t charm, we can kill with our bare hands. Three, I’m not trespassing.’ 

‘Yes, you are. I’ve farmed on the Lickey Hills for twenty years and my father before me.’

‘You don’t own the land,’ said Tommy, matter of factly as he lit a cigarette. 

‘That’s beside the point,’ retorted the farmer. ‘I pay my rent to the council.’ 

Tommy reached into his pocket and brought out a piece of paper with a flourish. ‘As of twelve o’clock yesterday, you now pay your rent to me. These are the deeds to the land.’

‘To you?’ said the farmer. ‘That’s impossible. This land is protected with by-laws. The council are not allowed to sell it. Who the bloody hell are you?’ 

Tommy took a long inhale on his cigarette before answering slowly, no doubt for dramatic effect. ‘Thomas Shelby.’

The farmer, who was up to this point, beetroot red with fury underneath his white beard turned pale and stopped struggling to free himself from the grip of Tommy’s men. 

‘The…Thomas Shelby?’ he said.

‘Yep,’ said Tommy. ‘You’ve heard of me then?’

The farmer nodded miserably realising his mistake. 

‘Now, if I were you, I’d go and get your wife to make my lads here a nice pot of tea and a bit of supper because we’ll be here all night.’

‘Yes, Mister Shelby,’ said the farmer, now quite contrite. 

Tommy gestured with the hand that still held his gun. ‘Off you go, before I double your rent.’ He gave a low whistle and the farmer’s four dogs all came bundling over to us, snuffling and rolling around submissively at Tommy’s feet. He gave each of them a pat or a scratch behind the ears as they wagged their tails excitably. ‘Oh, and if I ever hear that you have set these dogs on gypsy children again, they’ll be eating farmer for breakfast the next day. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Mister Shelby,’ squeaked the farmer. 

‘Good man,’ said Tommy. He stole a look at me and gave me a wink.


End file.
